


They're a Rotten Crowd (You're Worth the Whole Damn Bunch)

by americanbaekhyun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, Light Angst, M/M, Set in the future but modeled after the 20s, The Great Gatsby References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanbaekhyun/pseuds/americanbaekhyun
Summary: After a victory after the fourth world war, Korea and her people live like kings. The liquor flows endlessly, the parties last forever, and the stocks never drop.Byun Baekhyun enjoys his comfortable life just across the bay from the city of Busan, in the cozy bungalow his veteran father purchased.And his best friend, Park Chanyeol, lives just next to him in the massive mansion.Luckily, everyone knows large parties are far more intimate.





	They're a Rotten Crowd (You're Worth the Whole Damn Bunch)

**Author's Note:**

> A Chanbaek fic based off of F. Scott Fitzgerald's _The Great Gatsby_. Enjoy!

_“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as understood.”  
George Orwell_

_ **Korea 2111** _

_ _

_ **After a boom in the economy following a victorious WWIV, Korea, now unified, has nothing better to do than celebrate. The veterans, now newly rich, successfully invest in bonds and purchase lavish houses in the wealthiest, most beautiful parts of the country.** _

_ _

_ **Byun Baekhyun is six. His father, a veteran, has taken him and his older sister to a jutting piece of land just a few miles across from Busan—separated by a bay—in an effort to sell bonds. They live in a small bungalow home overlooking the port with a lovely view of said bay.** _

_ _

_ **Young Baekhyun can’t help but notice the massive mansion next door. The one that throws expensive parties every night, that lights up the entire harbor with electric rainbow lights that could be seen from Fukuoka. He was eight when he first met their son.** _

**June 2113**

“Baekhyun! Trim the vines, they’re growing into the path again.” The demanding voice of his father, interrupting his young dreams. Baekhyun stirred in the bed. His older sister had already left for school and since the unification of the government, measures had been put in place to regulate the economy. In order to secure it, it was deemed that one child per family was allowed to attend school until college—the others would get schooling until they could read and write and do basic arithmetic. Baekhyun’s father didn’t like the rule, saying it was the government’s way to force the uneducated younger children to do the grunt work and hold up the country, especially join the army. Only the educated would help the economy, the uneducated were to get laborious, tiring jobs to serve the educated. Unless, of course, you were part of the newly rich, who could afford to hire tutors for the younger children. The Byun family was not.

“’Kay,” Baekhyun mumbled back, unsure of whether his father could hear him or not.

“Baekhyun!” The answer was not.

“Okay!” Baekhyun yelled back and slipped out of his sheets. He changed into a pair of suspenders and a white collared shirt with a newspaper boy’s hat—typical for a boy his age. His father was sitting at the countertop, sifting through holographic pages on economics and how to make it big. Baekhyun rubbed his eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Joohyun made herself some oatmeal. Do that. I’ve got work to do, no time to worry about breakfast.”

Baekhyun frowned. He ate whatever Joohyun, his sister in high school, ate. Sometimes she didn’t eat at all before school. Sometimes she ate a ton. His father didn’t bother making things—he would be crossing the harbor into the inner city before noontime to go sell bonds and make money. Baekhyun would have the house to himself.

“Why’re you just standin’ there?” his father asked, looking him up and down. “Clippers are over there. Take a protein bar and cut the vines. Make yourself useful.” His father was an ex-officer who took no shit. Not after his wife, Baekhyun’s mother, passed away while he was serving. The event made him more rigid and less fatherly.

Baekhyun gave a yawn and nodded, stretching his arms out and grabbing the pliers from where they rested next to the sliding glass door. He pushed the button and the door disappeared, allowing for him to pass through easily.

The Busan air was like it always was in June—warm, sunny, and accompanied by a breeze of sea air. Baekhyun wiped the sweat forming on his forehead and walked toward the vines climbing down the fence into the pathway. The fence blocked off the ocean from their hilltop bungalow—there had been an incessant problem with dark green vines that would grow up and down the white picket fence, but other than that, the backyard was a beautiful place. A few trees allowed for the perfect balance of sun and shade, the cobblestone pathway cut it in half—on one side, there was a set of chairs, and the other, a pond with mosquito netting drifting lightly across to ward off the bugs. The sides of the yard presented a surprisingly well-kept garden. Baekhyun’s father was particularly fond of gardening since it was his mother’s passion when she was alive. He hated the vines, however, and refused to regulate them.

Baekhyun set to work, clipping the vines as far down as he could stand, but he was short for his age, even eight years old, so it proved to be a challenge. Abandoning his pride, he gave up and dragged a chair over to help him reach. 

Just then, he heard a melodious round of laughter coming from the neighbor’s mansion. Curious, Baekhyun turned his head. From this angle, he could just see over the beautiful golden walls into the massive pool his neighbors owned. Inside the pool were two people—a little boy and a little girl. The girl appeared just a touch older than the boy, less than a year, Baekhyun was sure. The boy, however, looked young. He was the one that caught Baekhyun’s attention first—his hair was long and dark, matted to his face as droplets rolled off his forehead. His sunkissed skin glistened in the morning as he splashed the girl playfully. The girl had short jet-black hair, kept off her forehead by a barrette, which was barely holding onto it as she played. 

Baekhyun squinted, his eyes following the boy’s movements until the boy turned around, eyes bent upward in a breathtaking smile—the rare kind that enraptured hope endlessly in it—adorned by a single dimple. His eyes met Baekhyun’s. The smile disappeared.

Embarrassed, Baekhyun turned back to his cuttings. He might get in trouble if his father noticed he was slacking.

“Hey! Neighbor!” the boy called. Baekhyun glanced again, face red. At first, he wasn’t sure who he was calling to, as if there was another neighbor. The boy picked up a towel and wrapped it around his body, waving a hand to Baekhyun. “Come play with us!”

Baekhyun glanced back inside. “I’m supposed to be cutting vines,” he replied matter-of-factly.

The boy’s face fell. “Aw! It’s such a nice morning, and you can meet us. You don’t know me, do you?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I don’t.”

The boy glanced back at the girl, who’d raised an eyebrow. He said something to her, to which she replied with an earnest “no!” and against her protests, the boy unlocked the door to the wall and slipped through, standing on his tippy-toes to reach the chain. Then, he sprinted across the stretch of grass to Baekhyun’s fence.

“What’s your name?” Up close, Baekhyun noted that he couldn’t say his R’s properly. His voice was dancing with the fire and promise of youth.

“Baekhyun,” Baekhyun replied, leaping down from the chair, dropping his clippers, and meeting the boy at the fence. “What about yours?”

“Chanyeol,” the boy, Chanyeol, stated. “Come play with us.”

“Who’s she?” Baekhyun asked, pointing at the girl, looking sternly at Chanyeol.

“My cousin,” Chanyeol answered. “Minah. Now that you know me, will you come play?”

Baekhyun glanced through the sliding glass door but his father was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was upstairs changing or perhaps he’d already left for the city. Either way, Baekhyun would probably be able to sneak out without getting caught. “I um. . . can’t swim.”

Chanyeol smiled. “So? The water’s shallow, and we can teach you. I’m a good swimmer, honest!”

Baekhyun gnawed on his lower lip. “I really gotta trim these vines. My dad won’t be happy if he comes home from work and sees them. He fought in the war.” That last bit wasn’t necessary, but Baekhyun added it in just because.

“We got people that’ll cut them! I’ll tell them. Come play!” Chanyeol begged. 

Finally, Baekhyun gave in. “Okay, okay. I’ll go get changed.” 

And after that, Baekhyun’s best friend became Chanyeol. He learned many things about Park Chanyeol—his father had also fought in the war, his mother was a beautiful bachelorette from the northern parts. They loved to throw parties, and always kicked Chanyeol out of the house to throw them. Before meeting Baekhyun, Chanyeol would venture across the harbor to Minah’s house but now, he would sneak over to Baekhyun’s and they would sit in the chairs in Baekhyun’s backyard and throw stones into the pond, seeing who could get their stone through the wire netting above it. Baekhyun’s family knew little of his intense friendship with Chanyeol—his father, as far as he knew, had no idea, and if Joohyun knew, she never said anything. 

Chanyeol was an only child, but he didn’t go to school. He had a private tutor that would come and teach him what he needed to know, but his parents wanted him to join the military. They rarely talked about their future—they knew they would be apart for it. Chanyeol was expected to marry a rich woman and Baekhyun was to upkeep his bungalow when his father got old. Until then, they used every moment with each other they could.

\--

**July 2122**

Seventeen-year-old Baekhyun didn’t have much a different life than when he was six. He rose, made sure his father was awake and trimmed the vines if necessary. Baekhyun’s life hadn’t really changed. The world around him had.

After WWIV, there were rumors that the North American Empire would attack the victorious Asia. When they were defeated in 2109, strict control was issued over the rebellious continent but since then, the liquor had run faster, the parties longer, and people prettier, drawing more and more immigrants from the NAE to Asia. Which led to a looser hold of the continent and then in 2115, when Baekhyun was ten, the granting of independence. And the people in power were smart and more importantly, weren’t about to let Asia and the countries involved forget about their past.

But the parties continued and the threats were empty. No one was worried, or at least, not directly. The possibility of a fifth world war hung low over the heads of the partygoers and drunkards but everyone ignored it. The parties at the Park mansion continued in full force, and Chanyeol came over consistently, hiding under Baekhyun’s bed or in his closet—anywhere to avoid the watchful gaze of Baekhyun’s father.

It was eight in the morning. Baekhyun had overslept, but only slightly. He went downstairs after slipping on a collared shirt and a tan tie. He had taken to combing his hair back, hair that had been lightened significantly since his life began in Busan.

“Baekhyun!” 

“I’m up!” Baekhyun called back. “It’s not the vines, is it?”

“No, Joohyun’s coming back home before her wedding. I want the house to look good, she’s bringing her fiancé. Pick it up, will you, and make him some tea. Some for me too!”

“’Kay!” Baekhyun replied, listening to the front door open and close, signaling his father had left for work yet again. His father had never been particularly successful with his stocks, but he’d made enough money to pay the bills. His sister also sent monthly payments from her government job in Seoul. 

Just as Baekhyun finished tying his tie, he heard a tap on his window. A smile rose to his cheeks. “Yeol!” he exclaimed, opening the window. Chanyeol was standing in his backyard, waving up at him. 

“Morning!” Chanyeol beamed. “Your dad home?”

“Just left. I’ll open the sliding-glass door.” Baekhyun leaped down the stairs and pressed the button next to the door and it disappeared.

Chanyeol walked through, running his fingers through his hair. He had grown quite tall, taller than Baekhyun and his clothing was nicer. His hair was luscious and dark against his tanned skin, and he held himself to a high standard. However, the demands of his wealthy family never seemed to affect his personality so much as his appearance—he was still a bright, optimistic boy who could light up any room he walked into. He leaned against the countertop. “What are you doing today?”

“Can’t go to town,” Baekhyun groaned reluctantly, not even answering Chanyeol’s question. They’d frequently go across the harbor to a club—Baekhyun found out money could transcend even age. “My sister’s fiancé is coming.” He set to work picking up books and papers strewn about the bungalow.

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow as he watched him work. “Her fiancé, huh? You like him?”

Baekhyun shrugged as he worked. “He’s. . . he’s alright. I guess I don’t see what she sees in him, but that’s love. Does it really matter what others think so long as you two love each other?”

He looked up to see Chanyeol gazing into his eyes, the dark irises swirling with something Baekhyun couldn’t make out. The silence hung heavy as the humid July air until Chanyeol cleared his throat.

“Poetic,” he stated bluntly followed by a forced laugh. His eyes climbed over the furniture in the house until finally meeting Baekhyun’s again. “Anyways, we don’t need to go to town if you don’t want to. I was meaning to ask you something else. My parents are having a party tonight, it’s going to be big, as always. And they’re not kicking me out this time, so I don’t need a place to stay for the night. Actually, I was wondering if you’d come.” He rustled through his pant pocket and pulled out a business card-type. His cheeks dusted pink, he handed it to Baekhyun. “An invitation.”

It was a thick piece of paper with a golden embellished border and bold letters.

_You’re invited!_

_Please join us for a spontaneous celebration at the Park mansion Friday, July 10th, 2122!_

“Yeol, I’m sorry but. . .” Baekhyun hated how Chanyeol’s face fell, how it looked like he’d broken his heart. “My father really wants me to have tea with my sister and her fiancé.”

“I—I get it. Don’t stress over it, really. There will be other parties. Definitely.” When Chanyeol gave a small half-smile, Baekhyun felt like he’d kicked a puppy. His insides screamed at him for being such a horrible person. “I’ve got tutoring soon, I should. . .”

“Yeah, definitely,” Baekhyun replied. The awkwardness was crushing as Chanyeol left, hands in his pockets, head hanging low. Baekhyun took another glance at the invitation and brought it upstairs and slipped it in his nightstand. He gnawed on his lower lip habitually, Chanyeol’s pained face flashing through his mind once more. He closed the drawer.

\--

Minseok was a short yet handsome man with eyes that sparkled when he laughed and a build that any sane man would be jealous of. He wore a light peach-colored suit with a black bowtie and skimmer hat tipped elegantly off to the side. He came from a wealthier family of Gyeonggi, so Baekhyun’s father had been particularly supportive of his relationship with Joohyun, since she would be marrying rich. Baekhyun, on the other hand, liked to air on the side of caution. The amount of poise and grace Minseok possessed made Baekhyun uneasy—his own rich friend acted almost nothing like Minseok, and the Parks were one of the richest families in Korea. Of course, Chanyeol was younger than Minseok, but it still made Baekhyun uncomfortable.

“Minseok!” Baekhyun’s father said, standing up from his chair and walking down the hall to greet Joohyun’s fiancé. He’d made Baekhyun change into something more appropriate—a white collared shirt with khaki suspenders and a tie to match. Baekhyun had slicked back his hair to make it more presentable, although it looked like he’d used too much gel. “Always a pleasure.”

Minseok removed his hat and rested it on the coathanger next to the door. “And you, Mr. Byun.” He shook Baekhyun’s father’s hand firmly. “Beautiful night, eh?”

“In Busan? It always is.”

Joohyun followed closely behind him. She looked pretty as ever, with a long, flowy powder-blue dress that finished past her knees. Around her neck was a necklace of expensive-looking pearls, no doubt a gift from Minseok. Her white-gloved hands held a small silk handbag and on her head was a peach cloche hat to match Minseok’s suit. Her dark hair was cut in an elegant bob and curled up on one side.

“Joohyun!” Baekhyun exclaimed delightedly, completely ignoring Minseok. He gave her a warm hug and she gave him a kiss on his cheek, careful not to rub off any red lipstick.

“Baekkie!” she replied. “How have you been?”

“Good!” Baekhyun responded enthusiastically. “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” Joohyun said brightly. 

Baekhyun reluctantly turned his attention to Minseok. “It’s great to see you again, Minseok. How are you?”

“I’m good, Baekhyun, thank you for asking.” Minseok’s voice held a monotone, as though he wished not to be speaking to Baekhyun.

“Well, Baekhyun has made us some tea and I’ve made dinner,” Baekhyun’s father started. “Shall we?”

“I’m surprised you’ve taken up cooking,” Joohyun commented humorously, “seeing as I always did it.”

“I needed a hobby,” his father replied lightly. “All I’ve got is Baekhyun to hang out with.”

This elicited a laugh from the couple and an exasperated huff from Baekhyun. The table had been set thanks to Baekhyun and the group sat down upon reaching it.

“Looks lovely,” Joohyun commented as she sat down across from Baekhyun while Minseok and his father sat at either head. Dinner was nothing more than traditional _samgyeopsal_ and tea. Baekhyun hated to admit that the dish really did look appetizing.

“How is Seoul?” his father asked his sister and her fiancé.

“Seoul is wonderful,” Joohyun replied wistfully as though she wished to be back there right now. Baekhyun couldn’t blame her—the only reason people came to this side of Busan was to party at the Park mansion or to visit the bay for no more than a day. It was a residential area with no real hotels or good restaurants or attractions—those things were reserved for the city of Busan just over the bridge.

“And I’m sure you guys are excited about the wedding.”

Joohyun and Minseok exchanged a loving glance. “More than anything,” she answered cheerfully. Baekhyun didn’t enjoy Minseok as much as he’d like to, but Minseok made his sister very happy. So he could tolerate him.

Just then, an array of shrieks followed by laughter was heard, most likely from the Park mansion. Baekhyun looked up at his father and then his father cleared his throat.

“Our neighbors are rather. . . noisy this time of night. Especially on a Friday. We live next to the Parks.”

“The Parks?” Minseok asked, eyes widening. “As in _the_ Parks?”

“Yes.”

He whistled. “Wow. They’re legends in Seoul,” he said. “Can’t believe Joohyun never told me.”

“Didn’t think you would care,” Joohyun spoke up but he ignored her.

“People go from Seoul to Busan just to go to one of their parties. They’re always having them and you never need an invitation. Endless champagne and dancing. . . what’s not to want, hm?”

_You never need an invitation. . ._ So why did Baekhyun have an invitation sitting in his nightstand drawer? He picked at the _samgyeopsal_ with his metal chopsticks, appetite suddenly leaving him. He felt some of his hair escaping the gel and falling into his eyes as he continued to look down but did nothing about it. He listened to his family and Minseok gossip over the economy, Joohyun’s job, Minseok’s family, the rumors of war, all while saying nothing and pondering the invitation in his nightstand drawer.

“Baekkie,” Joohyun began and Baekhyun looked up at his sister. She made a sweeping motion across her forehead, and Baekhyun got the message. Face reddening, he pushed his hair back and took a bite of dinner. He could feel the watchful eyes of Minseok and the judgmental ones of his father on him. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Luckily, there was a burst of fireworks and applause from next door, covering the awkwardness. Baekhyun took a long swig of tea and quickly realized he’d made it too sweet. 

“May I be excused?” Baekhyun asked his father. His question was met with steel grey eyes, but Baekhyun didn’t take that as an answer. His father wouldn’t be rigid now, not with Joohyun’s wealthy fiancé watching the ordeal happen. 

His father dabbed at the side of his cheek with a napkin. “You may.” His hardened gaze told Baekhyun not to do anything he’d regret.

Baekhyun nodded and took his plate and silverware to the sink to leave it; it would be washed by the morning. Then, he went upstairs. He closed the door quietly behind and rustled through his closet. Nothing but plain-colored suits and ties resting over the coathangers. He gave a huff of annoyance. He owned nothing that could compare to the expensive, sleek tuxedos and suits worn by the attendees of the Park’s party. Upon hearing his father give a laugh from downstairs, he got an idea.

Normally, Baekhyun wouldn’t dream of wearing his father’s clothes but tonight was different. He knew his father had a few designer black suits that he’d worn to parties after the war and he was intent on wearing one. Baekhyun dug through the walk-in closet to find one at the end—a black blazer with a necktie that looked like it would fit right in with the other outfits of the partygoers. He took it without a second thought—he might regret it if he thought too hard about it. Then, he brought it into his room as quietly as possible. 

To his surprise, it fit him. The pants were a bit too big but Baekhyun opted to use a pair of his own nicer black pants. He slipped on a pair of his own oxfords since he could never fit in a pair of his father’s if he tried. Then, he took a look at himself. 

His chestnut hair was slicked back, but in a boyish way, as though he was trying his hardest to be a man. His necktie looked presentable enough, but it would be ultimately outshone in the sea of rich, successful men. His blazer was fine, but to be fair, there weren’t many wrong ways to wear a blazer. He drew in a breath before taking the invitation Chanyeol had given him from his nightstand drawer. Then, he stuffed his bed with pillows, in case his father was to come back, and slipped out of the window.

The air was warm and crisp, with a delicate sea breeze. It was the perfect night for a party. Baekhyun adjusted his necktie and crept over to the edge of the rooftop on one side and slid down it, careful not to rip the blazer. Then he set off. 

The Park’s mansion was louder and more crowded than Baekhyun initially thought. His heart rate went up when he realized how bright the lights were, how the women wore tighter, shorter dresses than he thought with diamond or feather headpieces, how the men’s suits were more expensive than his own. Baekhyun wasn’t even sure how to enter the place—was he allowed to just walk in? Should he display his invitation at the front door? If what Minseok said was true, he didn’t even need an invitation. That didn’t calm his nerves, however. The trumpets and singing chorus were emphatic enough, and the sight of beautiful women and handsome men was enough to frighten him, not to mention the fact that some of these people could be around his age—the sons and daughters of the elite rich, all flocking around his best friend.

“Baekhyun? Is that you?”

Baekhyun glanced up to see Chanyeol, looking down at him from the steps leading into the fenced area. Baekhyun didn’t think the word “porch” suited it—it was a massive wooden space surrounding the pool with chairs and a bar and another set of stairs leading to a beautiful topiary garden with a winding cobblestone path running through it.

“I um. . . yeah. I decided to come.” Chanyeol cocked his head to the side quizzically. He was wearing a navy blue suit and his hair was slicked back much better than Baekhyun’s and he was holding a flute of sparkling golden champagne. He looked twice the man Baekhyun could ever be. “My sister’s fiancé is here, they think I’m sleeping.” Baekhyun held out the invitation for Chanyeol to see.

Chanyeol took the piece of paper and tossed it to the side. He smiled happily. “I’m really glad you’re here.” He opened the wooden fence and Baekhyun went through. “I can formally introduce you to my parents, we can get drunk, it’ll be really great! Maybe you’ll even find a girl you like.” Chanyeol winked at him and Baekhyun blushed. The only part about that sentence that frightened Baekhyun was the idea of meeting Chanyeol’s parents—throughout the many years of their friendship, Baekhyun had never met Chanyeol’s parents, the elusive Parks that were almost myths, and Chanyeol vice versa. 

“Wait, Yeol,” Baekhyun began, grabbing at his friend’s sleeve. Perhaps he hadn’t heard him over the loud music and laughing guests. Chanyeol turned his head, concern washing over his face. “What if. . . what if they don’t like me? I think you should lie.”

Chanyeol sipped his champagne elegantly. “Lie about what?”

Baekhyun’s face flushed. “You know. . .” He waved his hands around as though it should be obvious. “Like. . .” He gnawed on his lip, unsure of what to follow up with. Chanyeol clearly didn’t get the hint and he would have to spell it out for him. “I don’t have fame or success like the other boys here do. Maybe they wouldn’t. . . want me to be around you. You know. . .” The music was deafening but the silence between them was worse.

Chanyeol’s face softened as he understood. “You’ll be fine. They’re inside right now, waiting for a business partner. Baek, I wouldn’t introduce you to them if I didn’t think they’d like you. Everyone that meets you likes you.”

Baekhyun shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure about that.” But Chanyeol put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly and it felt so warm—Baekhyun abandoned his fears and gave a small nod, staring deep into his sparkling brown eyes. He let Chanyeol lead him down the narrow hall, examining the paintings of kings and emperors while holding tightly onto his hand. Chanyeol didn’t seem to mind and for that, Baekhyun was glad. His friend’s hand helped him steady his bouncing nerves.

Just then, Chanyeol stopped at a tall, oak door with a golden knob. He knocked on it a few times. “It’s Chanyeol, Mother.” 

“Mother?” Baekhyun whispered, surprised.

“My father could be out greeting some of the other guests while my mother waits here.” Chanyeol knocked once more. 

“Come in.” Mrs. Park’s voice was deep for a woman’s and dripping with seduction, just like her son’s. “Your father isn’t here, he’s out with the guests. I’m waiting for Mr. Kim to arrive. Would you like to join me, Chanyeol?” The way she said Chanyeol’s name sent shivers down Baekhyun’s spine—he felt like he’d been saying it wrong this whole time.

Chanyeol twisted the knob and opened the door. The room was a small library and dimly lit, just by a small lamp in the corner and a few candles, Baekhyun noticed, with a fan in one corner and an unlit fireplace in another. One of the walls was lined with books and next to the fireplace sat a few velvet chairs with a few statues of powerful people Baekhyun wasn’t able to recognize. Mrs. Park was sitting at the desk with a cigarette and a holder hanging out of her mouth. Baekhyun had seen her before, but never this close and certainly not this personal. She was sitting, but she still looked like a tall woman with a long face, hair cut short in a bob, red lipstick and a crimson dress on, with a feathery headpiece that matched. Baekhyun felt inferior to her and adjusted his necktie anxiously, waiting for Chanyeol to say something.

“Actually, a very important guest is here tonight,” Chanyeol began and Mrs. Park’s gaze turned from her son to Baekhyun. She looked up and down at Baekhyun and he felt a pang of adrenaline. He didn’t like to be the focus of this woman’s attention. “This is my best friend, Baekhyun. He lives in the bungalow next door.”

“Bungalow,” she repeated and Baekhyun felt like she’d cursed his house for all eternity by the way she’d said it. “Ah yes, that boy you’re always running off with.” She shifted her gaze to the papers in front of her on the desk and blew a lazy cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Baekhyun exchanged a glance with Chanyeol as if to ask if she was supposed to know about that. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Yuh—you too, miss.”

Mrs. Park stood up and strutted over to shake his hand. Her nails were long, slender and cold, unlike Chanyeol’s. Baekhyun was grateful she hadn’t passed that trait to him. Her dress just reached below her knees but showed enough of her long, pale legs. “Chanyeol, my son,” she started, looking up at him. “Would you give us some time? There are some things that I’d like to discuss with your friend here.” 

Chanyeol nodded. “Of course. Just. . . I’d like to have him for a bit of the night, yeah? Don’t be too long.” As he left, Baekhyun shot a look over his shoulder at Chanyeol, as if to say _don’t go_, but Chanyeol only dragged his hand across Baekhyun’s shoulder to comfort him. Once the door was closed and Chanyeol was gone, Baekhyun swallowed and stood stiffly in the same awkward place.

“Take a seat, Baekhyun,” Mrs. Park commanded, drawing out the words across her tongue. “There’s seats by the fireplace. Unfortunately, it’s too hot now to be lit, but we can pretend, can’t we?”

“Yes ma’am, wuh—we can.”

She furrowed her brow, eyes tracking his movements as he sat on the velvet chair closest to her desk. For a moment, there was silence and Baekhyun was left to his running thoughts, eyes turning over the statues. He stared at one for a moment—a man carved from the breast up with medium-length curly hair falling over the sides of his face and empty, colorless eyes staring blankly ahead. It unnerved Baekhyun, to say the least.

“Alexander the Great,” Mrs. Park spoke up and inhaled from her cigarette holder. She twirled it about in her fingers, sitting down on top of the desk rather than in the seat and placing one leg over the other. “If that’s the one you’re looking at. It was given to my husband as a gift for his service in the war from the government. It’s one of his proudest possessions. You do know of Alexander the Great, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard about him,” Baekhyun began. “Only from my father. My sister is older than me, she went to school. I didn’t.”

“Ah, I see.” Mrs. Park motioned with her hand towards the statue. “So you know nothing of who he was, his conquests. . . nothing?”

Baekhyun felt humiliated but he didn’t want to lie to her. “Just that he was famous.”

She inhaled from her cigarette again and exhaled a cloud of nicotine. “These foolish rules the government passes. Everyone deserves to be educated. Alexander the Great lived in Ancient Greece thousands of years ago, conquered the Mediterranean, Egypt, and even some of southern Asia and India.” She stepped up and Baekhyun felt his breath lodge in his throat. “He was loved and revered by the Greeks but feared by the Asians. He took many lovers during his conquests abroad.” Baekhyun heard her footsteps as she walked across the room, closer to him. “None loved him more than his dear companion, Hephaestion, however. Though he had wives to spare, he would give them up for Hephaestion in an instant, or so some were told. But,” she continued, finally stopping at the velvet chair Baekhyun was sitting in, “Hephaestion died of an illness and Alexander was devastated. However, many people have wondered if Hephaestion was poisoned—it was very possible. Why would someone want him dead, the people wondered? Well, if Alexander’s love for Hephaestion was getting in the way of his power then he must certainly go. The most powerful people are destined for greatness without others by their side.” Baekhyun felt her stroke his hair gently and his heart stopped. “You seem like a great friend, Baekhyun. I hope you will take something away from our talk. And to see you again here, everyone’s invited to our parties. You’re dismissed.”

Baekhyun felt like she’d burned him alive. He could only stand up stiffly and move like a zombie across the room. He opened the door and slipped out, immediately letting himself relax on the wood. He exhaled, forgetting he’d been holding his breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Chanyeol was there, an eyebrow raised.

“Baek, what happened?” Chanyeol walked toward him and rubbed his upper arms, eyes scanning up and down his body. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Baekhyun coughed and ignored the sting of secondhand smoke at the back of his throat. “Nothing. I just. . . got a dizzy spell. I’ll be okay.”

Chanyeol eyed him as he took a step back. “A dizzy spell? Since when do you get dizzy spells? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Baekhyun nodded, looking up at Chanyeol. He could feel the younger’s breath on his face and Mrs. Park’s words returned to him. _The most powerful people are destined for greatness without others by their side._ “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go back to the party, hm? If you’re feeling up to it.” Chanyeol smiled at him and his dimple shone. “Have you tried champagne before? It’s amazing.”

“No, I’ve never been allowed to have alcohol,” Baekhyun admitted. “But I’ll try it.”

Chanyeol smiled at the last part and took Baekhyun’s hand and led him back to the loud music and dancing guests, and the ever-present smell of alcohol and nicotine. Baekhyun could only think about what Mrs. Park had said as he felt Chanyeol’s skin against his. It was a bad omen, he was sure of it. But Chanyeol’s skin was so warm and soft, even if it _was_ just his hand, Baekhyun decided to disregard the story of Alexander and Hephaestion. After all, his mother hadn’t specifically said anything, only _implied_ it. And Baekhyun didn’t like Chanyeol that way. Or so he thought.

They wove through the crowd of dancing guests, some of them asking Baekhyun direct questions, like his age or if he’d like a dance. Others simply gave him a greeting—“good evening!” or “you’re lucky to be with the host’s son!” Baekhyun said nothing back other than a small smile. Finally, Chanyeol reached the bar, dragging Baekhyun behind him. 

“Mr. Jeon!” he called to one of the bartenders in their catering suits. “Mr. Jeon!” At this last call, a man of about forty years turned around, shining a champagne flute. He had smile lines around his face and was rather short, but Baekhyun could tell he was still retaining his good looks and charm even as he approached his middle years. 

“Ah, Mr. Park, back for more?” he asked.

“I’d like to, but not yet—not while I’ve still got this one in my hand.” Chanyeol displayed his half-full flute proudly like a trophy. “I’m here for my friend. Mr. Jeon, meet Baekhyun, my lovely neighbor.”

The bartender held out his hand. “Pleasure.” His hand was wet from washing dishes and calloused. “I suppose Chanyeol has opted to corrupt you with his lifestyle, has he?”

“Um, I—”

Baekhyun was cut off by his friend. “He just wants some champagne, Mr. Jeon, can’t you do that? He’s never tried it before!”

Mr. Jeon gave a look of false sympathy. “How absurd! Well, in that case, you’ve got to taste the stars.” He turned around and poured a glass flute to the brim with bubbly champagne. The glass was cold to the touch and fizzing with bubbles. Baekhyun examined it as though he would a pretty piece of jewelry. Then, he took a drink.

The champagne was bitter and sweet at the same time and left his mouth with a tingling, popping sensation. It was electric going down his throat and once he’d had one sip, he took another one, significantly longer. The amused laughs of Chanyeol and Mr. Jeon echoed in his ears as he kept drinking.

“He’ll be drunk off the stuff soon enough,” Mr. Jeon stated. “Better keep an eye on him.”

“Will do,” Chanyeol said compliantly. He led Baekhyun away from the bar, watching as he consumed the champagne. “Be careful, Baek. If you get too drunk, you’ll have to explain to your father why you’re coming home from my house hungover. I don’t think he’ll like that and neither will you.”

“I know, I know,” Baekhyun replied, swirling the flute in his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere. We can watch the fireworks and the confetti from the balcony up there if you’d like.” He pointed to a set of winding stairs leading to a high balcony with a crowd of men and women talking and laughing. 

Baekhyun frowned. “Do you know those people?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Most of the time, no. But you know what they say—large parties are more intimate than small parties. There’s more privacy.”

“More privacy?” Baekhyun hardly understood that when he was getting pushed about by dancing men and women. Just then, a pretty girl came up to them. She was tall, taller than Baekhyun but shorter than Chanyeol with short, curly brown hair. Around her forehead was a gold band and she was wearing a bright flowy green dress. She had large eyes that reflected the sparkling champagne in Baekhyun’s hand and wore a shimmery set of diamond jewelry from her earrings to her necklace and bracelets. Her black heels and pale tights made her legs look long and slender. She was very gorgeous but more intimidating to Baekhyun.

“Excuse me,” she began to Baekhyun and he flushed, gripping Chanyeol’s hand. He hoped he wasn’t sweating too much. “but are you the host’s son?”

“I um—” Just then, Chanyeol nudged him and gave him a small nod. He was egging him on. “I am.”

“What’s your name?” she asked. Her voice sounded stiff, like Mrs. Park’s.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun answered. “And you?”

“Minhee,” she replied, holding out her hand. “I’m glad to meet you. Would you like a dance?”

Baekhyun glanced back at Chanyeol and his friend gave him a coy smile, releasing his hand as if he was approving. “Yuh—yeah, sure.” Baekhyun hated how he stumbled over his words like a little kid. She took his hand with a small smile and led him away from Chanyeol. Baekhyun glanced back at his friend and he gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. Baekhyun reassured himself—Chanyeol would be fine. He was a tall, handsome young man. Certainly there would be other women. 

“So Chanyeol,” Minhee began as she took his hand. Her hand was sweaty and clammy, unlike Chanyeol’s smooth one. It sent a shiver down Baekhyun’s spine. He took a sip of his champagne. “Want to get me a drink?” 

“A drink?” Baekhyun hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t holding any champagne or wine. He suddenly thought back to Chanyeol introducing him to the bartender, Mr. Jeon—and Mr. Jeon referring to him by his first name. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. “I don’t. . . why don’t you get one yourself and I’ll go to the bathroom?” He hated how shaky his voice was.

She raised an eyebrow. “The bathroom?”

Baekhyun nodded, pointing vaguely at the mansion behind them. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Well, at least walk me over there,” Minhee grumbled. “It’s the least you could do, being the host’s son and all.”

“Really, just a minute.” Baekhyun was desperate now.

She sighed. “Fine. All that money would be gone to waste if you won’t even talk to a girl.”

_All that money. . ._ “You just want him for the money?” Baekhyun burst out over the music.

She turned around. “Huh? Who’s “him”?”

Baekhyun felt his breath hitch in his throat. In his mindless anger, he’d talked about Chanyeol—himself—in the third person. “Him? I didn’t say him. Him is me. I’m—”

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” she hissed over the music. “How could you impersonate the host’s son when you know everyone wants him? You just lost your future wife, you scumbag!” With those closing remarks, she was gone. 

Baekhyun blinked. It had all happened so fast he barely had time to register that she’d blown up in his face and then left immediately after. He decided he’d look around for his friend among the sea of people to tell him what had happened. As he searched over the crowd and blasting music, he thought about Chanyeol’s reaction when he would tell him that he screwed up his first real conversation with a girl who wasn’t his sister. He knew Chanyeol would laugh, tease him, and maybe call him some names but it wouldn’t be disappointment. He knew that much. Now if he could only find Chanyeol…

“Mr. Baekhyun!” Baekhyun heard someone call over the music. He turned in the direction of the call, squinting to see the person who’d called his name. It was tough to see over the crowd of people and the fact that they were all moving or talking in some way, but he did see someone waving their hand—it was Mr. Jeon, the bartender, Chanyeol’s friend. 

Baekhyun pushed and bumped his way through the crowd, giving his fair share of “excuse me”s and “I’m sorry”s until he was in front of the bar, waiting for Mr. Jeon to speak to. 

“I saw you alone, so I wanted to relay this message from Mr. Park. He says that if you’re ever finished with that girl, he’ll be waiting on the dock for you,” Mr. Jeon explained. “Ah, and make sure to bring your glass.”

Baekhyun glanced at the empty glass of champagne in his hand and gave a stiff nod. He thanked Mr. Jeon before turning around and pushing his way through the crowd.

The dock was opposite the massive porch and pool deck where the party was happening. It wasn’t large or brightly colored or anything—thus, nobody bothered to venture out there. There was nothing for the average partygoer. But Baekhyun wasn’t the average partygoer. 

The dock was a cheaply made structure that probably dated back to the early 2020s or late 2010s. If it weren’t for the bright green light at the end, there would be no way to find it at night. Baekhyun walked down the pathway listening to the music and shrieks and laughter slowly fade into the background until he stepped on the planks. He saw Chanyeol’s back and glanced down at the empty champagne glass. The air was breezy and cool away from the heat of the party and he saw the silhouette of a bottle of champagne. So that was what Mr. Jeon was talking about. 

“Yeol,” Baekhyun piped up and Chanyeol turned around.

“Hey!” he exclaimed and stood up. “Glad Mr. Jeon told you where I was. I was afraid he would forget or just not see you and I’d be waiting for you all night.”

Baekhyun strolled down the dock to where Chanyeol was standing. His friend held up the bottle of champagne. “Look what I’ve got.” He popped the cork and the liquid fizzed at the top. Baekhyun chuckled and held out his flute and Chanyeol filled it to the top. He then filled his own and sat at the end, long legs dangling over the edge. Baekhyun sat cross-legged next to him and sipped his champagne.

“I’m guessing that it didn’t go well with that girl, seeing that you’re here now and not with her.” Here comes the teasing.

Baekhyun smiled and turned his gaze up to meet Chanyeol’s. “No, I—no, it didn’t go very well.”

Chanyeol snickered. “Lemme guess, someone called your name? Was it Mr. Jeon?” His eyes widened. “If it was, I didn’t mean for—”

“It wasn’t Mr. Jeon,” Baekhyun interrupted, swirling his champagne flute in his hand. For a second, all he could hear was the rustle of the breeze in his ear and the waves gently lapping the shore as he looked into Chanyeol’s eyes. “It was no one, in fact. It was me.”

Chanyeol’s mouth opened in mock surprise. “No!”

Baekhyun hit him playfully. “Shut up, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Chanyeol took a drink of champagne. “Okay, deal—you won’t have to hear it if you tell me what happened. She was really pretty and seemed like a nice girl, I thought you’d be good with her, Baek.”

“She wasn’t nice,” Baekhyun began, pushing back some of his hair that had started to fall over his forehead. “She started talking about your money and how it’s all wasted if you don’t talk to girls. Apparently you’ve got a reputation as someone who avoids women.” At this, Chanyeol gave an amused smile and Baekhyun continued. “Anyway, I got kinda mad and started talking about you in, you know, the third person. After that, I didn’t even feel like fighting for her. She wasn’t worth either of our times.”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows pleasurably and held up his flute. Baekhyun clinked his glass with Chanyeol’s and they drank. “Amen to that,” Chanyeol said after his sip. He leaned back, propping himself up with his elbows. “And Baek. . . there are lots of people like that. Don’t think she’s the only one. I’ve come across those types a hundred times before.” He sat back up again, making eye contact with Baekhyun. “It’s nothing new to me. If I’m being honest, you’re the only one I can trust who’s not using me. Outside of my family of course.”

Baekhyun smiled. He reached up and let his fingers dance across Chanyeol’s cheek. It was warm and smooth. He didn’t say anything, didn’t feel like there was anything to be said. He held his hand there for a moment or two, just looking into Chanyeol’s eyes like an idiot but then there was a burst of fireworks and an array of cheers and shouts and Baekhyun, startled, pulled his hand away, blushing heavily.

“Sorry. . . sorry, I was just. . .” Baekhyun began but then he saw a blush rise to Chanyeol’s cheeks as well. He forced a small laugh and Chanyeol followed en suite. 

“We need more champagne,” he stated lightly and Baekhyun held out his flute for Chanyeol to fill it, smiling as he watched Chanyeol concentrate cutely at the glass he was filling.

\--

**July 2124**

_It was a heart attack._

_There was nothing you could’ve done._

_Vets like this. . . they suffer quietly for a long time. Their loved ones never know what’s happening to their bodies—sometimes they don’t even know themselves._

_He’ll be buried next to your mother._

Nineteen-year-old Baekhyun had felt like his world was moving too fast. He was growing up, getting older. Until he woke up one morning to see his father fallen on the kitchen floor. He was dead before he hit the ground. Then came the blaring sirens, the bustling doctors and then, all too soon, he was taken into a room to speak privately with a doctor.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

With those seven words, Baekhyun’s world came crashing down. And here he was, sitting in a waiting room. Tears streamed down his face as he wondered what he should do next. His father hadn’t treated him the greatest, but he was his dad and he had cared for him and about him deeply. Baekhyun didn’t know what else to do—he had nothing without his dad, he had lived with and cared for his dad since he was little, since Joohyun always had school. And now, suddenly, he was gone.

Baekhyun fished through his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed Joohyun’s number.

“Hi Baekkie! Is everything okay?” Joohyun was cheerful and chipper as she should be—she’d recently announced her pregnancy. She was only a few weeks into it, but she was so excited. . . Baekhyun hated himself for telling her that her child would never have any grandparents.

Baekhyun choked back a sob and to his dismay, Joohyun heard.

“Baekhyun?” Her voice became somber. “What’s wrong? Can you put me on with Dad?”

This time, Baekhyun didn’t even bother to hold back his cries. “Juh—Joohyun, he’s dead.”

“Oh. . . oh my God. . . Baekhyun, where are you?”

“Buh. . . Busan St. Mary’s. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Baekhyun. . .” Baekhyun could tell his sister was crying. Hearing this only made him cry more. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to get some rest.”

Baekhyun sniffled. “Oh. . . okay.”

The line cut out and Baekhyun chewed on his lower lip, wiping his eyes with tissues. He was attracting some stares from the other patients but he didn’t care. His dad had just died. He was allowed to cry a little. 

Just then, his phone rang. As he picked it up, he expected it to be Joohyun but he was wrong. It was Chanyeol.

“Huh. . . hello?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking, but it didn’t work. The other line was hectic with noise—Baekhyun wondered what could be going on at the Park mansion this time. He then decided he didn’t care.

“Baek! I was gonna invite you—hey, is everything alright?”

Baekhyun sobbed. “No!”

“Oh my God, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Busan St. Mary’s Hospital.”

“Holy fuck. . . what’s going on, Baek?”

“Will you come there?”

“Yes, I’m on my way.” The noise was slowly growing fainter, perhaps it was a party Chanyeol was going to invite him to.

Chanyeol arrived in forty-five minutes, hair disheveled and suit messy. It must’ve been a party that Chanyeol’d abandoned by the way he was dressed—he had had a necktie but now it was resting around his collar, no longer tied. He took one long look at Baekhyun’s tear-stricken face.

When he saw him, Baekhyun got up and began crying again. He walked over to Chanyeol’s outstretched arms and wrapped himself in their warmth, burying his face in the younger’s chest. He sobbed louder but his voice was muffled by Chanyeol’s body. It was a bit later and the waiting room was cleared out save for a mother and her son in the back, watching them intently.

Chanyeol ran his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, whispered that it was okay in his ear. “What happened?” he asked calmly.

“He’s. . . he’s dead. . .”

“Who?”

“My father.”

Baekhyun felt Chanyeol hug him tighter. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry.” Chanyeol pulled away and held Baekhyun’s face with his hands. He wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “See. . . seeing you cry makes me cry.” He brought Baekhyun in again for another hug and Baekhyun returned it willingly. They didn’t move or sit or anything—just stood in the waiting room of the cardiac ward, arms wrapped tightly around each other, Baekhyun’s tears staining his nice suit. His cries were less audible now, silent sobs that wracked his body as he pondered the future he hated was his—one where he woke up to a dark, empty house with no bacon frying or coffee brewing, no yells up at him to go trim the hedges since they’d grown over the fence, or clean the gutter because winter was coming and it was stuffed with leaves that’d lodged themselves in it. He curled his fingers around Chanyeol’s cotton shirt, holding him tighter.

At that moment, Baekhyun heard the elevator door ding open and his named called frantically across the room. It was Joohyun. Baekhyun held Chanyeol for a few more seconds as if to thank him for being there and then turned to his older sister.

“Baekhyun!” she cried, mascara smudged from tears and eyes swollen. Baekhyun knew he looked no better. He rushed to her and threw his arms around her, breathing in her perfume and nestling his head in her neck, ignoring the strands of black bobbed hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Can we see him?” she asked once they broke apart.

Baekhyun nodded slowly. “I. . . I wanted to wait for you.”

Joohyun gave a forced smile. “Thank you, Baekkie.” 

Baekhyun took her hand and began to lead her down the hallway to their father’s room. Just then, Joohyun released him when she caught sight of Chanyeol. Baekhyun had never introduced his father or Joohyun to Chanyeol, nor told them of his intimate friendship with the Park’s only son. She observed him, looking deep into him. Her lower lip was trembling and Baekhyun could tell she was fighting back more tears.

“You were. . . you were here for my brother. When I wasn’t,” she stated. Her voice was nothing above a whisper, Baekhyun was surprised Chanyeol could hear it. “Thank you. For taking care of him.” She reached up and touched his chest tenderly. Chanyeol only nodded understandingly before she turned around and followed Baekhyun to the room.

His father’s skin was pale and the room was dark and derived of windows. Baekhyun didn’t like how he looked like he was stressed about something, even among the world of the dead. His brow looked too furrowed like he was having a bad dream. His lips were colorless, but Baekhyun was still waiting for him to wake up and tell him to clean himself up and take a shower. 

“Joohyun,” Baekhyun whispered to his sister as they stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of their deceased father. “Where is Minseok?”

Joohyun shook her head. “He’s. . . he’s on a business trip in Gwangju. I haven’t told him yet. I don’t want him. . .”

Baekhyun squeezed her hand but didn’t reply. He walked slowly over to his father’s bed and touched his hand gently. It was stiff and cold, although Baekhyun didn’t know what he expected. He turned to his older sister, tears in his eyes. She stifled a sob and wrapped her arms around him again, crying into his shoulder.

“Will. . . will you spend the night with me? I don’t wanna be alone,” Baekhyun asked in a whisper. 

“Of course,” Joohyun answered. “Min won’t be back for another two days.”

Baekhyun smiled. “Thank you.”

\--

As time went on, Joohyun took charge of the funeral preparations. It was to be a small affair with few people—his father’s work colleagues, Joohyun and Minseok, Baekhyun and Chanyeol. She admitted she couldn’t think of anyone else—they had no extended family, and his father’s brothers had been killed in the war. 

Healing was a process. For the first two weeks, Joohyun and Baekhyun stayed in the bungalow, and Minseok arrived with some food and hygienic supplies, mostly for his pregnant wife. Then, after about a month, Minseok had to start working again, and Joohyun decided to follow him. She gave Baekhyun strict instructions to call immediately if something happened. She also ordered him to lean on Chanyeol, who formally introduced himself as Baekhyun’s best friend, if he felt more grief in his life. She taught Baekhyun what he needed to know in terms of math and science—after all, Baekhyun barely understood what a heart attack was, only that it stopped the human heart and was extremely deadly. She and Minseok would send Baekhyun payments to afford his needs, but Chanyeol promised he would use his family’s fortune to take good care of him.

However, just a week after Joohyun left, Baekhyun realized he’d never be able to get used to the empty bungalow. This was where Chanyeol was the greatest help—he’d steal Baekhyun away to his mansion and they’d party when Baekhyun felt lonely and sometimes would stay over at his house if he wasn’t up for a party. It was one of _those_ nights, though—Baekhyun and Chanyeol sitting on Chanyeol’s dock with a bottle of champagne being passed between them, bright green light illuminating their faces.

“. . .And then she kissed me! Out of nowhere!” Chanyeol exclaimed, waving the champagne bottle in his hand for emphasis. “All I said was “should I get you a drink?”!”

Baekhyun chuckled. “And you kissed back?”

“Well, I had no choice!” Chanyeol replied matter-of-factly. “When a pretty girl wants to kiss you, you should probably kiss back. Especially if you’re trying to prove to your parents. . .” His voice trailed off.

“Prove what?”

Chanyeol took a long swig from the bottle. “It’s just. . . they think I’m gay.”

“Gay?”

“You know, attracted to men.”

“Yeah, I know what gay means,” Baekhyun stated sarcastically. He motioned for Chanyeol to give him the bottle and he did. Baekhyun drank heartily. “Well, are you?”

“Oh Jesus. . .” Chanyeol muttered. “I can’t tell you how many times my mom’s tried to get that answer out. She’s been—”

“That’s not what I asked,” Baekhyun interjected. The silence between them that followed was awkward and uncomfortable and should’ve been answer enough. But Baekhyun didn’t care.

“Baek, I. . . I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I like girls and boys. Maybe I just like one boy. Maybe I like all boys. It’s all so. . . complicated. Pass the damn bottle.”

Baekhyun handed him the champagne, not breaking eye contact. Chanyeol took a very long drink and then laughed dryly. 

“You know what? I think it’s the alcohol, but I wanna tell you something,” Chanyeol began and Baekhyun’s eyes flickered. Chanyeol’s looked green in the lighting.

“Yeah?”

Chanyeol took another drink. “My parents would disown me if they found out, but. . .” He pointed a finger at Baekhyun, still holding the glass bottle. “Did you know. . . do you remember the first party I took you to, the one that I gave you that goddamn invitation to?” When Baekhyun nodded wordlessly, Chanyeol continued, snickering a bit. “That. . . that was when I realized I was in love with you.”

Baekhyun nearly choked on his spit. “What?”

“Don’t tell anyone!” Chanyeol hissed accusingly. “It’s a secret. That’s why all that stuff is so complicated. I could. . . tell myself I like girls all night but then when you come over and ask me to stay with you ‘cause you need help on math or science, I always forget. Or I make myself forget. Either way, you’re too. . . what’s that word. . . _alluring_ for me to forget.”

Baekhyun felt like he couldn’t breathe. All of this was coming so fast. He wished he were drunker so he could forget this in the morning, but deep down he knew that wouldn’t help anything. “Yeol,” he began, staring out into the bay, watching the glistening lights of Busan. “Do you want to kiss me.”

There was a moment of silence before Chanyeol spoke. “I do.”

“Then kiss me better than you kissed that girl.”

So he did. Chanyeol leaned over without hesitation, fingers dancing across Baekhyun’s cheek and pressed his lips to his, kissing him rather hard. Baekhyun threaded his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and leaned into the kiss. Baekhyun didn’t know really what he was doing, he’d never kissed anyone before. He was following Chanyeol’s lead, and Chanyeol’s body was telling him to keep going—and Baekhyun liked it. He kept kissing him, feeling the world melt around them—he couldn’t hear the lazy lap of the water against the pier or the screams and shouts of happy party guests. Only through his closed lids could he make out the green tinge and feel Chanyeol’s breath in his mouth. 

“Oh God. . . oh God, oh God,” muttered Chanyeol as they finally separated. His face was pained with regret and Baekhyun’s heart shattered. _Had he done something wrong?_ How could something so wrong feel so right?

“Wuh—what is it?” Baekhyun asked gingerly, afraid of the answer.

“Oh God,” Chanyeol simply repeated. “God, we can’t. . . we can’t do that.” He brought a hand to his lips.

“Why not?” Baekhyun asked, speaking before realizing the gravity of his words. Saying that made him sound like. . . he liked it.

“Because it’s. . . I’m supposed to be in love with a woman,” Chanyeol replied but it sounded like he was talking more to himself than Baekhyun. “In love with a woman, in love with a woman.” It was clear the sobriety had settled in and he was realizing how stupid he had been.

“Yeol, I. . .” Baekhyun began but his voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure what to say, if anything. He didn’t like it when Chanyeol wasn’t happy with him. They had argued before, plenty of times but all those times seemed trivial until now. Even though they weren’t really arguing, Baekhyun knew this would dent their relationship in an awful way, maybe even permanently. He didn’t like the idea of Chanyeol avoiding him, Chanyeol not coming over when the night was cold and he was feeling especially lonely, Chanyeol neglecting to bring him to his family’s parties. . .

“Can I take it back?” Chanyeol asked suddenly, standing up. 

“Take what—”

“The past, what, like two minutes?” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, two minutes. Pretend they didn’t happen. I um, I’ve gotta go. My. . . mom.” With that, he turned and paced down the pier back to the noisy party in the backyard. 

Baekhyun still sat there, dumbstruck, his legs still hanging off the edge of the pier, his hands gripped tightly around the champagne bottle, his lips still tingling with the sensation of his best friend. He could barely register what had gone on—his best friend had confessed his love for him, kissed him, and then taken it back, all in the span of five minutes. Maybe less. He searched the empty bay for something, but the only thing he saw was the reflection of the green light on the end of Chanyeol’s pier. He stared at the bottle of champagne for a moment before blinking a couple of times. He drank.

**July 2131**

It was very, very hot. The hottest day Korea had seen in nearly ten years. 

Twenty-six-year-old Baekhyun lounged across his couch in front of the AC in nothing but his boxers, lazily reading a book. It wasn’t like it was the kind of day wherein you could walk around in full attire. 

He frowned to himself when he heard the slam of a car door nearby. After both Chanyeol’s parents were murdered in their pool in 2128, the parties at the Park mansion became less and less frequent, especially now that Chanyeol was the master of the house. In the daylight, almost no one came to this side of the bay—there was nothing but vacation homes and successful rich families.

Baekhyun stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. He was curious as to who could be getting out—it certainly wasn’t his sister, who’d recently had her second son. It had to be someone attending to the Chanyeol in his lonely mansion.

The last time Chanyeol had spoken or even looked at Baekhyun was that night in 2124 when they’d kissed for the first and last time. Every now and then, Baekhyun would receive something in his mailbox—a check, with a note always containing the same message:

_Hope you’re doing well. I love you._

It would never be signed, but Baekhyun knew who was sending them. They also had enough money to get him through the days, on top of the monthly checks Joohyun would send him. With them, he’d been able to take classes so that he had a basic fifth-grade education and gotten his driver’s license, although he didn’t own a car. 

Baekhyun moved the curtains aside to see who was getting out of the car in Chanyeol’s driveway. Two women, one with bright, unnaturally blonde hair and the other with dark black hair, both cut into a stylistic bob. Baekhyun squinted, confused. He wondered who they could be—Chanyeol hadn’t called people, namely women, over in a while. Baekhyun let the curtains fall back into place. He knew he shouldn’t try to interact with Chanyeol, not now, because they were both twenty-six years old and now was the time to marry and to carry on a legacy. Baekhyun gnawed on his lower lip. His family’s legacy would be carried by Joohyun and her two sons. He was meaningless. 

Baekhyun knew he should leave it alone and let Chanyeol live his life, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. He walked over to the kitchen where the latest check was sitting on the table, with the same note in the same handwriting, Chanyeol’s handwriting. He picked it up with his fingers and ran his eyes over the check and the note. He shook his head and tossed the note in the trash but slipped the check in his wallet. He’d cash it at the bank when he drove there tomorrow morning.

Baekhyun wiped the sweat off his brow and walked back over to the couch where he fell onto his chair in front of the AC and continued reading his book—an old American classic called _The Great Gatsby_. He was almost finished anyways.

_“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . And one fine morning—_

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This fic took me a very long time to write and I was really conflicted about the ending, but I took the more Gatsby-esque route and made it open-ended. However, if I find the time, I might make a second chapter! :) Comments and votes are appreciated!


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